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Friday, April 4, 2014

Another Similarity

The grandfather had become very old. His legs would
not carry him, his eyes could not see, his ears could not hear, and he was
toothless.

When he ate, bits of food sometimes dropped out of his
mouth. His son and his son’s wife no longer allowed him to eat with them at the
table. He had to eat his meals in the corner near the stove.

One day they gave him his food in a bowl. He tried to
move the bowl closer; it fell to the floor and broke. His daughter-in-law
scolded him. She told him that he spoiled everything in the house and broke
their dishes, and she said that from now on he would get his food in a wooden
dish. The old man sighed and said nothing.

A few days later, the old man’s son and his wife were
sitting in their hut, resting and watching their little boy playing on the
floor. They saw him putting together something out of small pieces of wood. His
father asked him, “What are you making, Misha?”

The little grandson said, “I’m making a wooden bucket.
When you and Mamma get old, I’ll feed you out of this wooden dish.”

The young peasant and his wife looked at each other
and tears filled their eyes. They were ashamed because they had treated the old
grandfather so meanly, and from that day they again let the old man eat with
them at the table and took better care of him.

“The
Old Grandfather and His Little Grandson”

Retold
by Leo Tolstoy

My grandson, Connor, spent
his Spring Break from Drexel University with my wife and me and came away
smitten with the paradise that is Vieques.We had lots of time together,
and he and I talked of how we like to think of ourselves as out-of-the-ordinary
personalities. When other kids in kindergarten built structures, for example,
Connor knocked them down. When my kindergarten teacher passed around a large can
of sugared gumdrops and told us to each take one. I took two.

Connor Joseph Schmitt

As Connor grew from a little
boy to a fascinating young man of many talents and interests, we both
discovered even more similarities.

Not only does he look like I
did as a youth, but we both:

Tan easily

Drink our coffee black

Hate drinking soda

Prefer water

Like spicy food

Enjoy the taste of lemon

Hum to ourselves when
preoccupied

Have a birthmark in the same
spot on our right ear

Choose yellow when confronted
with a color choice

Have had the quality of our
writing acknowledged

Had identical chain-reaction
car accidents on the highway -- with our vehicle totaled and no injury to
ourselves

Each time Connor and I
discover a common trait, we rush to be the first to pronounce, “Another
similarity.” The line always brings us a laugh.

But … I’ve listed only physical
similarities. I have yet to learn how much else I may pass to Connor in the way
of perceptions and principles.

I may never know.

Erasmus Darwin, for example,
died without knowing how much he influenced his more famous grandson, Charles, in
their surprisingly similar theories of evolution and inheritance.

In a 2012 study of 5,500
grandparents in 11 European countries, Norwegian sociologist Knud Knudsen found
that Europeans generally spend a good deal of time with their grandchildren.
Grandmothers are more involved with their grandchildren when a couple is
younger, he said, but with age, grandfathers usually show greater solicitude.

It seems to be all about time.

One’s time is one’s greatest
gift to a loved one, especially for a grandfather -- whose inventory of it is
running down.

Here’s writer John Clarke:

I think I know now why there can exist a special bond
between grandfathers and their grandsons. I think it has to do with their
perceptions of time. Somehow we in the middle have either forgotten or have
become so world-weary that the slowness of time seems like a long-ago dream.

Einstein was the first to work out the math about time.
He was able to mathematically prove something we all somehow already know: that
time is not a constant. I personally believe that time slows then speeds up and
then slows again over the course of our lives.

I remember well the long days of my childhood when I
had nothing more important to do than to sit on the porch with my grandfather
and hear him tell the story about how a beehive works or how to graft a branch
onto an apple tree. He and my maternal grandmother were the only adults I knew
who understood this slowness of time. They proved this by making time for me.